Swear by the Stars
by Glorfindel's Girl
Summary: Their forbidden love affair did not come without a price...


Swear By The Stars

Written By Glorfindel's Girl

          Hi, again! Glorfindel's Girl here.  This is a short, sweet, (all right, sad), and poignant little fic that I wrote a while back and finally decided to post.  I wrote this as an exercise in tense and description, and I think that it turned out quite nicely.  It's a bit different style than what I usually use, but it really works here, and I think you'll like it.  Hopefully, this will one day tie into my ongoing monstrosity of a story _When__ My Life Begins Anew.  _Enjoy….

Disclaimer:  I don't own Lothlorien, the Mallorn Trees, Celeborn, or Galadriel.  They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien & his estate.  Technically, I think the Elf I used belongs to Tolkien as well.  Keep reading _When My Life Begins Anew_, you'll eventually find out who he is.  But the mortal girl is my character.  Don't use her, because you don't know anything about her.  More about her in another story, as well.  The song excerpts used are traditional, so don't bite my head off if you know the song, but use somewhat different lyrics (I have heard other versions of this song.)  This is the version I've heard/sung my whole life.

************************************************************************************

Springtime in Lothlorien.  Mallorn leaves float through the air in showers of gold, covering the ground in gilded flooring until they are kicked up by the breeze again.  The rains come, and the blossoms open on the trees in a profusion of colour and scent.  Clear days follow, and the sunlight sparkles in the treetops, illuminating the new leaves with an ethereal light.  And always the air is filled with the sound of laughter and song, for it is a time of rejoicing and celebration of life.  For some, though, it is also a time of sorrow, and remembrance.       

The grave lies at the foot of a massive tree, marked by a simple white stone.  Such a stark reminder of mortal life has no place in this timeless land, and yet it is an integral part of the landscape.  Beside the grave, an Elf kneels, his dark hair unbound and fluttering in the wind.  He lays his hand upon the stone, tracing the runes carved into it, and closes his eyes, lost in memory.

___________________

The woman came with the Spring, arriving just as the blossoms were opening on the Mallorn trees.  The light in her eyes and music in her voice had named her an Elf-friend, and perhaps it was because of this that the Lord and Lady permitted her to stay.  

She possessed a raw and unrefined beauty.  Her hair was the black of a starless night, and her eyes, just as dark, were peaceful and contemplative. Often one could hear her clear voice lifted in song, which echoed through the trees.  He could still hear her voice in his mind.

"_Do not marry your Lord,_

_My Father did implore_

_Or an outlaw's wife you'll be,_

_With no roof over head, _

_No feathers for your bed,_

_Just the leaves of an old oak tree__."_

He loved her from the very first time he beheld her.  It was a deep peaceful love that grew with every word,_ every smile, every touch.  Under the boughs of a great Mallorn they held each other, with only moon and stars as a witness. _

"Your laws forbid this," she whispered, breathlessly, the stars mirrored in the inky depths of her eyes.  His response had been to kiss her gently, tenderly.

"I do not care," he replied.  She stared at him for a long moment, before smiling softly and passionately returning his kiss.

They laid together, the soft grass below them, and the velvety black sky above.  "I would share in your fate," he whispered to her as she lay in his arms.  She turned to face him, her gaze troubled.  She said nothing, but after a moment, pulled away from his embrace, and stood.  The moonlight cast an ethereal glow over her body, before she draped her cloak over her shoulders and covered herself.

"We should go, before we are found here," she said quietly.

He stood, put on his own cloak, and together they started back toward the great city of the trees.

He awoke the next morning to find his bed empty, his lover gone.  Her presence was no where to be felt in the Golden Wood.  Troubled, he went to the Lady Galadriel.

"She departed from Lorien before the sun rose," Galadriel said, when he inquired about the girl.  "She bid me tell you farewell, were I to see you."

He turned away from the Lady's penetrating blue gaze.  She knew.  She knew what had happened between them.  Had read the truth in his eyes.  He waited with bated breath for her harsh words.  Waited for her to command him to depart from the Golden Wood.  He had grievously broken the Elven laws; exile was the least he deserved.  

But no such command came.  Instead, Galadriel laid a comforting hand upon his back, and whispered a single word.

"Remember……."

And then she was gone.  She left him standing alone, broken hearted, and with thousands of questions that none could answer.  In his heart, he cursed his grandmother's choice that had left him with the opportunity to choose between Elven and mortal life.  Cursed himself for allowing his love to slip away from him.

The years passed slowly, marked only by the changing leaves on the Mallorn trees.  The summer green faded into gold, and gold fell away to reveal green.  Twelve times the leaves repeated the cycle.  Twelve years that were but a heartbeat for the Elves of Lorien.  Twelve years that slowly, gradually brought healing to one.  He had not allowed himself to despair and fade from grief, instead embracing the life of the Eldar with all his being.  Although the pain never vanished completely, it was dulled with time.  Sometimes, though, he swore he could still hear the sound of his lover singing, her clear voice carried through the trees.

The leaves were fading into gold again when the woman returned.  It struck him to see how the years had aged her.  Her eyes, though, were still bright and lively.  She was still beautiful.  

"I had to come back to you," she whispered, as he held her that first night.  That was all the explanation he needed.

They passed the next few weeks in happiness, spending the days together, and the nights in each other's arms.  She still sang, though now only whispering to him as they lay beside each other, the Elven words falling easily from her lips.

"When I married my love, he swore by stars above 

_That 'till death he'd be true to me_

_With the stars overhead, and the soft earth for a bed,_

_'Neath the leaves of an old oak tree.___

_As I lay by his side, I did count the stars that hide,_

_In the leaves of the old oak tree."___

As the leaves resolved themselves into gold, he saw a change in his lover.  Her steps had a heaviness where they had previously been light and carefree, and a shadow lay in her eyes.  Though she still smiled and seemed full of life, he often saw her pause when she thought no one could see, and lean heavily against a tree, gasping for air.  Shortly after he first noticed this, she started coughing.  Terrible coughing fits that had racked her entire frame.

One evening, while they were walking together, she stopped, and grabbed his arm tightly, coughing heavily.  When she finally regained control of her breath, she moved her hand, uncovering her mouth.  He saw then that her fingers were stained with blood.  She noticed his stare, and turned to look at him.  The pain in her eyes told the truth before she could utter a single word.

"I am dying," she said quietly.

"It is why you returned," he replied softly, but she shook her head.

"I came back because I love you," she said, tears glittering in her eyes like diamonds.

He pulled her to him, wrapped his arms around her, and wept, unashamed of his tears.  He wept for the revelation of her love, for the unfairness of the fates, for what now seemed the cruel choice that would not allow him to share in hers.  She did not weep.  She did not have strength enough to do so.

As the winter progressed, she grew steadily weaker.  They no longer walked great distances, instead staying in the confines of the City itself, wandering beneath the boughs of the Mallorn trees.  They sat together on a _flet, and watched the first snowfall, reaching up to catch the tiny ice crystals as they fell from the sky.  _

Her cough was worse.  The strong teas the Elves brewed for her relieved it somewhat, but she was still left short of breath.  She no longer sang, for singing took her breath away, and she had little enough to spare.  He hated that she could no longer sing, for he could see in her eyes that she longed to.  She had good days, days that reminded him of how she had been before her illness.  Days when she would smile and laugh, and lay content in his arms.  But more often, there were days that found her horribly weak and tired.  On these days, he would cradle her in his arms like a child and fight back tears, because he could not relieve her pain.

As the weather turned warmer one more, she was so weak that most days she remained in bed, sleeping to escape her pain.  Always he stayed by her side.  It pained him to see how thin she had become, how tired she always looked.  But beneath that, he could still see the deep beauty that had once enveloped her.  

The days grew longer, and the flower buds appeared on the Mallorn trees.  He held her hand, counted each breath she took, though he tried not to.  She opened her eyes, and tightened her grip on his hand.  Even so, it felt like the grasp of a child.  

"I would have shared your fate," he whispered, tears which he did not bother to hide tracing down his cheeks. 

"I know," she replied. "But I could not bear the though of such a beautiful life being extinguished so cruelly.  You do not deserve to suffer, to die.  It is not what was meant to be for you," she whispered.  "Do not weep," she said, as she reached up to wipe the tears from his cheeks.  "That is one custom I will not have you break."

He forced his tears back as he sat on the bed beside her, and cradled her in his arms.  

"It is all right," she whispered laying her head on his shoulder.  Then softly, her voice barely a whisper, she began to sing.

          "_Do not marry your Lord, _

_My father did implore…"_

Somehow, she sang the entire song without stopping.  The song that had once echoed strongly through the forest, now sang in a barely audible whisper.  He had never heard it sound more beautiful.  He eased her back down onto her pillows, and she took a deep breath.

"I love you," she whispered, closing her eyes.  "Not even death can end that."

"I love you too," he whispered.  His lover drew her last breath even as the first Mallorn flowers burst into bloom.  Then, finally, his lover's soul departed for realms unknown to Elves, he wept. 

________________

The Elf rises from his knees, but not before bending over and kissing the gravestone.  He then scatters a handful of exquisitely beautiful mallorn blossoms across the stone.  The most beautiful blossoms are always the first to be plucked, he realizes as he stares at the now adorned stone.  Something troubles him, though.  The very last verse of his lover's song – the very last thing she ever sang – has been haunting him again.  

_"Though my love is no more_

_His spirit will endure_

_O're__ his grave now the grass grows free_

_And I bore him a child_

_With his hair and eyes and smile_

_And the strength of a tall oak tree."_

He remembers the strange earnestness in her eyes as she sang the verse for the final time.  It has been seventeen years now since she returned – four years since her death.  Still he wonders how much truth – if any – lay hidden in the words of the song.  Only time will tell, he decides.

He risks one last glance at his lover's grave before walking away down the well trodden path into the City of the Trees.  It is the same path he and his lover trod seventeen years ago.  He sings softly as he walks, as he enters the City he is still singing, his clear voice echoing through the trees.

_"And I bore him a child,_

_With his hair and eyes and smile,_

_And the strength of a tall oak tree."_


End file.
